


Mistletoe Kisses

by tragicallynerdy



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Polyamory, UnDeadwood Mini-series (Critical Role), author is really bad at naming fics, holiday fic, seriously so much kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallynerdy/pseuds/tragicallynerdy
Summary: Clayton wasn’t sure who exactly had hung the mistletoe, but he wasn’t about to spoil their fun. Lord knows it’d be a long few weeks before Christmas of trying to avoid ending up under there with anybody else, but he was sure he could manage. Right?‐-------‐----------------------------In which Clayton is oblivious, the rest of the gang is thirsty as hell, and they slowly woo him with the help of some mistletoe.
Relationships: Aloysius Fogg/Clayton Sharpe, Aloysius Fogg/Miriam Landisman/Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe/Arabella Whitlock, Clayton Sharpe/Arabella Whitlock, Clayton Sharpe/Miriam Landisman, Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 23
Kudos: 104





	Mistletoe Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Is it too early for Christmas fics?? Probably, but here's one anyways! I was GOING to work on my WIP, but got distracted by holiday decorations and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Originally it was going to be snippets of different pairings, but then it turned into this. Oh well! Please forgive my fumbling descriptions of kissing. 
> 
> Also, this ignores the end of Deadwood, and assumes that Arabella’s husband left or died or whatever and now her and Miriam live together.

Nobody would confess to hanging the mistletoe, but Clayton suspected that it was Aly. Or Miriam. Or perhaps the two of them planned it together, with Miriam’s love of meddling and Aly’s giddiness over any sort of impropriety. And it was rather festive, he’d give them that. Pretty and green all tied up with a bright red ribbon that he swore he’d seen in Arabella’s hair the week prior.

Regardless, it was there, hanging merrily in the doorway between Arabella and Miriam’s sitting room and kitchen, just waiting for an unsuspecting individual to walk under it. Clayton had noticed it as soon as he’d arrived for dinner, but wasn’t sure who else had. But he wasn’t about to spoil their fun. Lord knows it’d be a long few weeks before Christmas of trying to avoid ending up under there with anybody else, but he was sure he could manage. Right? 

* * *

Arabella, for all her concern about being proper, was the first to meet him under the mistletoe. He was just heading out of the kitchen, carrying a plate of food at Miriam’s command, when she bustled through. He hastily stepped out of the way to let her pass, doing his best not to drop the tray. She paused and reached out a steadying hand before glancing up over her head and smiling. He glanced up too, noticing too late that they were just under the mistletoe. 

“I… sorry Arabella, you don’t have t-” Clayton was apologizing, giving them both an out, when she reached up and touched his cheek. He fell quiet. An uncharacteristic smirk appeared on her face, then she was drawing him down and kissing him, feather-light. Her lips and her hand were soft and warm, and she lingered a moment too long, lips curving into a smile against his. Claytons breath caught, and she released him, lowering herself down from her tip-toes.

She smiled again, nudged him to take the tray he had let go of without noticing (when had that happened?), and strolled into the kitchen. A blush crawled up from under his collar, and he couldn’t look at any of the others as he rejoined them. He didn’t think any of them had seen, and missed the knowing grins that passed between Miriam and Aly. 

* * *

It was a couple of days later when Aly caught him, just as they were all heading into the kitchen to sit down for dinner. Clayton waited until the others were through before making his way over to the doorway, just in time for Aly to come barging back out, muttering about a forgotten kerchief. Clayton ducked aside with a nod, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. 

“Why Mr. Clay, I do believe you owe me somethin'". Aly broke out into a wide grin and his eyebrows wagged at Clayton’s questioning look. He pointed overhead, and Clayton groaned as he followed the motion to spy the mistletoe. 

“C’mon Aly…” he could feel the goddamn flush spreading across his face again. He was a grown-ass man, and yet here he was, blushing like a schoolgirl.

"Now now, none of that!" Aly chided teasingly, reeling him in close and placing an arm around his waist. The other man was only a scant few inches taller than Clayton, but used them to his advantage, swooping in and kissing him deeply. Clayton stilled, stunned at the heat behind the kiss, and Aly hesitantly started to retreat. Clayton wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed back, mouth opening with a groan. He could feel Aly smirk before he pressed in closer and licked into Clayton’s mouth. His tongue was hot and slick and Clayton couldn’t help the gasp that burst from him. 

A sharp whistle and a catcall broke the moment as Miriam and Arabella started whooping and hollering from the table. Clayton broke away, face burning. Aly grinned and dipped back in for one more quick press of lips before letting him go. He sauntered back into the kitchen ahead of Clayton, who followed after with a dazed look on his face. He settled at the table, ducking his head at the laughter of the others, trying to ignore Aly, who looked like the cat that got the canary. Matthew took pity on Clayton with a gentle smile and quieted their teasing to say grace, and that was that.

(It wasn’t until two days later that Clayton realized that Aly had never retrieved the handkerchief he’d supposedly forgotten, when he replayed the event for the umpteenth time in his mind).

* * *

The next few days were kiss free for Clayton, nobody passing through the door at quite the right time. He’d seen Miriam and Arabella press a gentle kiss to each others lips as they passed each other, and Matthew peck Miriam on the cheek with a soft look after dinner one evening. The mistletoe passed into normalcy, just another part of the décor, as he tried to put the kisses out of his mind. 

Until one evening after dinner as they were sprawled around the sitting room well into a bottle of whisky. Matthew had stood to “stretch his legs", and was leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, nearly filling it with his broad frame. Clayton got up to refill his glass from the kitchen, slipping by as Matthew laughed at something Aly was saying. He was halted by a firm hand on his hip, and turned to Matthew with a question on his lips. 

“What’s wrong-" Matthew cut him off with a kiss, pressing him back against the doorframe with a solid thud. The other man leaned in close as a big hand came up and cradled Clayton’s head, tilting it at just the right angle for him to deepen the kiss. Claytons lips parted with a gasp under the intensity of Matthew’s onslaught, and he heard the distant shatter of glass as he clutched at Matthew’s shirt with both hands. The kiss made Clayton’s head spin, Matthew’s tongue doing things he _knew_ they didn’t teach in seminary. He felt his knees grow weak, and couldn’t help the quiet sound of protest that escaped him as Matthew drew back and the warmth of his hands left him. He opened eyes he couldn’t remember closing to see Matthew slide into the sitting room and steal his seat, looking far too composed.

He stared, hand coming up to touch his lips, feeling dazed. Arabella made her way towards him, pausing in the doorway to reach up and bring him down for another kiss, tongue tasting of whisky dipping into his open mouth teasingly before drawing back with a knowing smirk at the hazy look in his eyes. 

“C’mon Clay, let’s get that glass cleaned up.”  
He noticed then that his glass was shattered at his feet. He flushed, ducked his head under her gaze, and followed her towards the broom.

* * *

After Matthew’s kiss he found himself frequently distracted, not sure what was going on with the others and trying to puzzle it out. None of the kisses he’d had had felt like simple mistletoe kisses. They’d all felt like something more. He tried to ignore that train of thought, telling himself that he didn’t have a crush. Especially not on all of them.

Nonetheless, he felt flustered and unsure around them in a way he never had, worried that things would change. That someone would bring it up, and he’d lose the closeness they had. But life continued on as usual, and their friendship stayed as steady as always. It was almost a week before Clayton felt himself relax enough to stop being hypervigilant of the mistletoe, settling into the knowledge that whatever happened wouldn’t change anything. Which was good - he couldn’t risk losing these people, his people, because of any unrequited crushes he definitely did not have. They were just kisses, after all, and didn’t mean anything. Or so he told himself. 

And then one morning he found himself back in that doorway, ducking through only to bump into Miriam, who steadied him with a hand on his chest and a smile. “Well Mr. Sharpe, I guess it’s my turn. Aren’t I just the luckiest.” Placing both hands on his cheeks, she tugged him towards her and kissed him soundly. His hands found her waist, stroking warm skin through the cloth of her dress. She slowed the kiss into something tender, lips moving together in a gentle caress. It was a long minute of lazy kisses, open-mouthed and sweet, before she nipped his lower lip and pulled back with a hum of satisfaction. “There. Now that was nice, don’t you think?” He could only duck his gaze and nod, a small hint of a smile and that damnable blush back on his face, as she patted his chest and walked away. 

He gazed after, noticing too late the flood of warmth spreading through his chest that he knew signified he had feelings. _Well, shit._

* * *

After Miriam, it was as if all of them stopped holding back. It felt like every which way he turned he turned someone was kissing him. Quick pecks on the lips or cheek, slow smouldering kisses that left him warm down to his toes, sweet ones that made something in his chest curl. And, on one memorable occasion, a claiming kiss that left him breathless with bruised lips.

He didn’t know what they were _doing_ , couldn’t figure out why they’d all suddenly chosen to turn their affections onto him. Surely it was a game, but it wasn’t one he was willing to call a halt to. He liked it too damn much, liked being tugged down by the ladies or pressed against the doorframe by the men. Liked the hands on his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. None of them had pressed any lower, and he was glad for it, glad that they’d at least kept up that minor illusion of propriety. It kept him from falling too deep, able to remind himself that this was just a game, that’s all. Some fun between friends. Even if most friends didn’t know that this person has chapped lips, and that one likes to bite. Or that she is far too good with her tongue, while he always tastes of whisky. He spent a lot of time flustered, face hot, trying to regain his composure after yet another one of the four had slipped their tongue in his mouth. Trying to pretend this was normal, that this was nothing more than friendliness. Even if each and every kiss made the warmth and the feelings grow, until he could no longer deny that his fondness for each and every one of them went far beyond friendship.

He couldn’t help wanting more, couldn’t stop the waves of affection and want that rushed through him after each kiss. And then couldn’t help but feel foolish, yearning after his four friends like some schoolboy with a crush. Still, he found himself glancing longingly at each and every one of them, trying not to get caught staring. He didn’t need any of them thinking he couldn’t handle some simple kissing, some friendly affection between friends. Didn’t need to scare them off. It was better that way, better to maintain the friendship than risk warping it with feelings that wouldn’t be returned. 

(And he somehow never quite caught the hopeful glances that were sent his way; always missed the secretive smiles after he’d averted his gaze; didn’t see the knowing looks at his blush after being caught under the mistletoe. Didn’t see, didn’t think, that maybe they had feelings too).

* * *

It all came to a head on Christmas eve. They were making their way back to the Miriam and Arabella's house after the candlelit service, snow softly falling around them in the quiet streets of Deadwood. Spirits were high as they walked; Arabella was giddy and giggling at Aly who was cracking jokes with aplomb as they led the way; Matthew was humming carols and smiling ear to ear, clearly pleased at the nearly full church for his first Christmas Eve service in Deadwood; and Miriam had linked her arm in Clayton’s and had her face to the stars, catching snowflakes on her tongue. Clayton relished the warmth that bloomed in his chest at these people, these beautiful people, that he wished he could call his own. 

Before long they were stomping into the house, brushing snow off coats and hats, shedding layers and sighing at the warmth. Aly immediately headed to the stove, stoking the fire. Miriam and Arabella bustled into the kitchen to get treats and drinks, and before long they were all settled in for a cozy Christmas eve. 

But then Matthew was sent into the kitchen by Miriam to retrieve something, some food or drink she’d forgotten. A few minutes passed and he didn’t re-emerge. “Clayton honey, will you go give him a hand? I think he got lost in there.”

Clayton huffed out a quiet laugh and a “yes ma’am”, and made his way towards the kitchen. 

He was heading through the doorway when Matthew stepped into view, blocking his path. His face lit up at the sight of Clayton, who sighed and smiled back, glancing up at the mistletoe hanging so inconspicuously above them. “Well, c’mon then big man, plant ‘em here.” 

Matthew’s smile grew, and he wrapped an arm around Clayton’s waist. “Do you trust me?” he murmured.

“’Course, you know that Matthew,” Clayton replied, one eyebrow raised in question. Matthew beamed and placed his other hand at the nape of Clayton’s neck. Tightening the grip around his waist, Matthew twirled Clayton towards him, tucked him close into his side, and dropped him down into a dip. Clayton would later deny the startled yelp that left him and the way he scrabbled for purchase on Matthew’s shoulders, but for now a hot mouth was on his and it was all he could focus on. How the hell was Matthew this strong? He held Clayton up with ease, and Clayton couldn’t help but moan at the slick slide of their mouths moving together.

Too soon he was being lifted upright, and Matthew drew away briefly, grinning at Clayton’s dumbfounded expression before ducking back in for another passionate kiss, long fingers winding into Clayton’s hair. He tugged sharply, and a whimper erupted from Clayton’s mouth unbidden. Matthew groaned in response and held him tighter, pushing him back against something solid. No, pushing him back against _someone_ solid. Someone tall and firm, who quickly settled their hands on his hips. Clayton shivered as he felt another set of lips press against his jaw. He pulled away and twisted in Matthew’s grip, looking behind him to see Aly, who quickly claimed his mouth. Clayton kissed back fiercely before remembering Matthew, who had moved in to press hot open-mouthed kisses along his neck, hands sliding under his waistcoat. Clayton wrenched himself back from both of them, stepping away and out of their reach, batting away hands that tried to pull him back in. 

“Now wait, just wait a damn minute.” He was breathless, and his pants were tight across his groin. “What in the hell are you doing?”

It was Miriam who answered as she stood and moved across the room. “Oh sugar, we were wondering when you’d ask us that."  
She came closer and hooked a hand around his neck, pulling him towards her and down into yet another hot kiss with a laugh.

“He finally asked! You owe me two dollars Arabella!” He heard Aly call out across the room. Miriam grinned into his mouth but let him go with minimal protest when he pulled away, stepping back and giving himself distance. 

He gaped at her, then at Aly, before a scowl crossed his face. “This some kinda game to you?”

Miriam frowned and her tone turned serious. “While it certainly has been fun, no, it’s not a game. We were hoping you’d realize that we were pursing you, in a romantic sense. Were hoping you’d realize some time ago, actually.” 

“I… what?” His heart picked up a quick rhythm in his chest. 

“C’mon now Clay, surely you know by that we want you? Why else’d we be kissing you breathless every chance we get? We haven’t exactly been subtle ‘bout it.” Aly piped up from where he stood with Matthew.

Clayton looked around, taking in their faces. They all looked hopeful but serious, none of the earlier jesting present. “… all of you?” Clayton knew his voice sounded bewildered, quiet and unsure. “But why?”

The others exchanged soft smiles, full of affection. Affection for _him_ , he realized with a start.

It was Arabella who replied, a blush blooming prettily on her face as she approached and took his hand. “Yes Clay, all of us. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the four us have been… involved for quite some time.” He hadn’t. How had he _missed_ that? She hesitated at his look of astonishment, and it was Matthew who continued.

“And we’d like you to join us. If you’ll have us, that is. You mean a lot to us, and we’ve been pining something awful.”

Clayton’s face grew warmer and he ducked his head, finding it hard to maintain the intense eye contact. He couldn’t believe what they were asking him, couldn’t believe that the exact thing he’d wanted was here, right in front of him. He gestured aimlessly. “This is a lot to take in. I thought… I thought y’all were just playin' some stupid game. Didn’t think it was real.” 

Arabella squeezed his hand tightly. “Oh, it’s real alright. And we’re hoping you’ll say yes.” She leaned in close and peered up at his face. “Will you? Say yes, that is?”

He scanned her face for any sort of falsehood or mockery. It wasn’t there. Only an earnest hope, and a bit of yearning. All he had to do was say yes. He nodded slowly. “Yes.” He looked around hesitantly, making eye contact with each of them in turn before returning his gaze to Arabella. "I like you too, all of you. So yes, I'd like this to be something more."

A relieved grin broke out on her face, and Arabella surged up and kissed him fiercely. “You thought we were messin’ with you, didn’t you? You silly man, we love you.” She murmured into his mouth, before surging back in. 

Too soon another set of soft hands was tugging him away, as Miriam claimed him. She slid her arms around his neck, and kissed him with all the sweetness he expected from her, soothing his jangled nerves. “I’m so glad, Mr. Clay.” 

“Me too, Miss Miriam.” He rested his forehead against hers, savouring the sweetness of her breath, before he was pulled away again. 

Next was Matthew, cradling his head and kissing his forehead, his jaw, his cheek, before holding his head firm as he gazed into Clayton’s eyes. “You’re ours, now.” His voice was deep and serious, and Clayton could only swallow and nod. Matthew finally kissed him, licking into his mouth and swallowing his groan, devouring him and once again leaving him breathless.

A teasing complaint of “Oh c’mon now, you’re hogging him!” from Aly saw Clayton released and reeled in for a slow, burning kiss that re-ignited the fire in his veins. He moaned into Aly's mouth as someone else’s hands slid under his suitcoat and splayed across his ribs. Another mouth bit gently at his neck, while the soft sounds of others kissing arose from nearby. His head spun in the best of ways by the time Aly broke the kiss. “Shall we take this to the bedroom, ladies and gents?” 

“Yes, please,” Clayton gasped, heart pounding at the prospect. A chorus of agreements arose, and after that the evening was lost in a haze of sensation.

* * *

It was later, much later, satiated and laying in a crowded bed, sweaty limbs from five bodies tangled together every which way, that he finally thought to ask. “How does this work, anyway?” 

“However we want it to,” was the answer, whispered against his temple and followed by a kiss. And then another, and another, and another. As many kisses as a man could ever want, he thought. No mistletoe necessary. 

“How ‘bout that, Matthew.” Clayton could hear the smirk in Aly's voice from where he lay. “We finally got Clayton into our bed. It’s a damn Christmas miracle.” Muffled groans, laughter, and the thud of a body being pushed off the bed made Clayton grin, delighted at these silly, loving, beautiful people that he could finally call his own. 

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe someday I’ll write the missing smut scene?? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are very appreciated!
> 
> Bonus, because I didn’t quite like it anywhere:
> 
> “Whose idea was the mistletoe, anyway?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, just… you could’ve just asked me, you know.”
> 
> It was Arabella who flushed heavily and avoided his gaze. She threw her hands in the air at Aly's cackle, pointing accusingly at him. “You said it was a fine idea!! And it worked, didn’t it?”
> 
> “Surely did, ‘Bella, surely did.” He grinned and pulled her in close, soothing her pout with a kiss.


End file.
